Turning my head, bladed fists clenched by my sides, as expected, I saw my opponent on his knees, head bent, chain at his side. Leaping to stand in front of him, I jerked the chain from his hand, planted my foot on his chest, and kicked him until he fell on his back, blood pouring from his wounds as he gargled for breath. As his dulling eyes looked up at me, I swung his chain and ploughed the spiked end straight into his face, sending him to hell with his own weapon. His face was gone, no longer visible, not even to the devil.

As his skull crushed in, the spectators went wild and the victory gun sounded. Dropping the chain to the bloody ground, I released a victorious roar and paced around the ring, dragging my knuckledusters along the metal links, waiting for the door to open. When I was halfway around, something made me look up, some magnetic pull. I never looked up, never showed my eyes to anyone but the man I was about to kill. But this time, I couldn’t resist. High up in a box way above the crowd, Kisa’s face came into focus. Her palms were pressed against the protective glass. Her face was awash with relief, a small smile flickered on her lips, and happy tears shone in her blue eyes.

I could barely drag my eyes off her. But when the cage door opened, I stormed out, too much aggression still coursing through my body to stay still, too much hatred for the sick fucks in the crowd to accept their fake fucking adulation.

A pathway cleared as I stormed through the crowd. Like prey flees from a predator, instinct told them to move, to get far away from danger. Viktor dropped in step by my side. As I approached the mouth of the tunnel leading back to the waiting room, Durov stepped in my way, a pissed look on his face. His fight was next, once the cage had been washed down. Without stopping, I knocked him out of the way with my shoulder, and a laugh came out of his fucking mouth.

I kept walking, needing to burn off my excess aggression, when he taunted, “So you know, 818, I can still taste her dripping pussy in my mouth. I just fucked her hard, real hard.”

As if a leash had been jerked on a collar around my neck, I came to a dead stop. A burning fire coiled in my gut, a protective surge taking grip as I thought of Kisa. Inhaling deep, I tried to calm my anger, but it didn’t work. Nothing fucking worked. That woman was crashing through my defenses, breaking down walls I didn’t want to come down.

Viktor moved in front of me, out of Alik’s view, and advised, “Move. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

I nodded my head, but I couldn’t stop my rage, when pain blinded me and a memory hit me hard…

*****

“Get the fuck off her, Durov,” the boy ordered.

Durov’s expression turned to stone.

“She’s mine. She belongs to me!”

“She doesn’t want you.” The boy stepped closer and, dropping his voice, said, “Durov, she’s mine, and I’ll kill you if you touch her again.”

Durov smiled a cold, unnerving smile. “I’ll get her some day, and there’ll be nothing you can do about it. I couldn’t leave her alone in that bikini. I had to touch her. I want to fuck her.”

Without thinking, the boy drew back his fist and, fueled with rage, sent it straight into Durov’s psychotic face, the sheer force of it knocking him to the ground.

“You’re insane! You’re fucking sick in the head!”

Durov smiled, as if not feeling the blow. “Maybe, but she’s going to be mine. I want her. I need her. She calms me, and I’ll do anything to own her and have her all to myself and fucking away from you…”

*****

The image flash caught me off guard. As I turned my head to look back at Durov through hooded lids, I saw that same cold expression on his face… same as the memory. I’d had a memory of a teenage Durov…

Durov smiled that same psychotic smile. “I own her, fucker. Always have. You go near her, or if I find you looking at her again, I’ll kill you.”

Shaking, on the threshold of losing control of my anger, I whispered to Viktor, “Get me to the gym. I need to train, work off this rage, or I’m going to kill him, here and now!”

Viktor didn’t question my demand. I followed him down the tunnel, away from that fucking dead man walking, Durov. I smirked knowing his days were numbered and I would soon be spitting on his cold corpse.

Then my mind drifted to Kisa and the look of relief on her face, palms pressed against the glass. That small warm smile pulling on her lips, those tears of relief in her eyes. And for the first time in… forever, something besides rage ached in my chest.

It was a foreign and strange feeling, but as I thought of Kisa’s face, it felt familiar.

It felt… right.

Chapter Thirteen

Kisa

“You should’ve seen him, Talia. He destroyed the Chechen in seconds. It was unbelievable. It was all anyone could talk about.”

“And Alik?” Talia asked, and I sighed. “He was as cruel and as dynamic as always. He fought the Turk. He toyed with him for what felt like an age, gutting him piece by piece with his dagger. The crowd loved it, Abram smiling at his son proudly at the side of the cage, but I couldn’t watch. It was too much. I hate it when he kills them so slowly, so violently.”

Talia was silent, then said, “But you could watch Raze kill someone?”

Staring at the photo of me and Luka as kids, clutched in my hands, I squinted my eyes, studying his face, his beautiful face.

“Kisa?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I could watch him. He didn’t toy with his opponent, even though I’d heard he was a sick murderer from the streets and probably deserved it. He didn’t drag out the kill. He didn’t hang around the cage, jogging laps for the glory of the crowd. He left the cage and then, when I went to the holding rooms to see if he was okay, he and Viktor had already left the building. I don’t even know where he stays. I suppose he’s staying with Viktor. He’s so reclusive, private.”